


Square 1

by wth_am_i_writing



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt, Mental Health Issues, One-Sided Attraction, POV Second Person, Reclusion, Relapsing, Social Anxiety, emotional distress, hikikomori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wth_am_i_writing/pseuds/wth_am_i_writing
Summary: You’d never open that door again, not even to eat.





	Square 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tUmblr on December 23, 2014.
> 
> Original Author’s Note: I think the last several months have been harder on me than I realized. Yesterday I had several rather sudden near melt downs over various things, and I honestly have no idea why… Anyway, I wrote this as a way of trying to get over the feelings last night. I didn’t get upset about the specific thing in this fic yesterday, but it’s based loosely on something that I really ended up beating myself up over this last semester and had been wanting to turn into a fic. Thus this joins the ranks of the super personal fics. the grammar probably isn’t the best; I really suck at past vs past perfect tense >.< also just not my best writing in general… Hope you guys enjoy. :(

All your progress, _months_ of progress, had been smashed in a matter of minutes. Your breath hitched in a sob. You were an _idiot_ , a total _fool_. You were so fucking blind to think that everything had been because he liked you. You scratched at the floor where you’d knelt down in front of your door before pushing yourself up and crossing to your bed. Grabbing your pillow, you thrashed it against the bed angrily. How could you let yourself be so stupid? How could you let such a foolish thought continue to exist for so long?

You dropped the pillow as your energy left you and sobs took you again. You sunk down in front of your bed, bringing your hands up to cover your face. You didn’t want to leave your room ever again. You’d never unlock that door again, not even to eat. You couldn’t handle going out again, couldn’t handle seeing _him_ or any of his friends again. It was too much, everything too much. You were _such_ a fucking idiot, so fucking useless, so _fucking incompetent_ that it’d probably be better if you starved to death anyway. Idiots like you shouldn’t have the right to survive.

You’d met him online in a dance cover community almost a year and a half ago, his handle the ever-so-clever _NtheBlind_. He’d become popular for his cute girl group dance covers and sexy original routines, all performed in a blindfold. Your popularity at the time had been growing–dressed in a black tracksuit, face covered in various hand-made surgical masks, dancing in front of a closet door, and known for your boy group dance covers. When N sent you that first message, you hadn’t left your house in a little over two years, hadn’t had a verbal conversation with your parents in almost as long, had been eking out a living as a comic artist and illustrator and giving your entire paycheck to your parents to cover your living expenses. Dance was how you prevented your body from wasting away, was one of the few ways you could confidently communicate with the world–you just let your body do the talking.

N had wanted you to join him and dozens of other dancers in a special flashmob. You’d politely refused the invitation, but that didn’t stop him from approaching you with several other offers to collaborate with him and other dancers. Even though you’d kept refusing, he kept messaging you, struck up conversation, put effort into getting to know you. He was a big fan of your dancing and really wanted to work with you. You admitted that you were a you fan of his too, and wanted to work together, but time just wouldn’t allow it at the moment. When you eventually caved and gave him your Kakao ID, he had started sending you selcas when he got bored at work and photos of his snacks. You’d returned the sentiment with one of the hundreds of pictures of your cat you’d saved to your phone. After _a year_ of talking, he convinced you to meet him for coffee.

It had taken you three nights of practicing opening the front door and stepping outside before you felt like your world wouldn’t fall to pieces just by going out in public. You had almost hyperventilated and cried at the ticket machine in the train station. And though you had gotten to the coffee shop over thirty minutes before the meeting time, it had taken you the entire thirty minutes to work up enough courage to actually stay in line long enough to get to the front and order. You’d taken the coffee with shaking hands and sat in the most isolated corner of the coffee shop. N’s first words to you had been how he’d almost expected a cat to meet him with how many cat pictures you sent him.

Though going out had made you completely exhausted, though you had replayed every social interaction from ordering your coffee to apologizing to the elderly woman you accidently bumped into at the station in your mind until you were physically nauseous, though you had felt like a complete and utter fool for half the things you’d done and said, you’d enjoyed being with N so much you’d agreed to meeting him the next week. It turned into weekly coffee, then into weekly movies, and N had gradually increased the number of people he invited along. He was always careful to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren’t left behind and or your opinions on things were ignored. Whenever it became apparent that a situation was getting to be too much, he’d whisked you aside to get air.

To say you were smitten with N was an understatement. You wouldn’t have left the house if it weren’t something different, wouldn’t put up with the nightmares of all the blunders you made, of all the things you could have said or done differently. N made your heart flutter. He treated you so differently than anyone else had ever done before. His smile and fleeting touches on your shoulder made all the anxiety and looping thoughts worth it. You never left the house for any other reason, still barely talked with your parents, but to see N–

He’d convinced you to join a special dance cover group with his friends Ravi and Hyuk. The three hour meetups on Saturdays turned into four hour dance practices as you practiced three separate songs for the collaboration to post up online. Everything went well, was like a dream. You’d been aware of your feelings for N from the start, and had started carefully mulling over different ways to confess. You spent almost as much time worrying over how to confess as you did worrying over how you’d fucked up in conversation with his friends. You were _sure_ he liked you until today at practice.

N had brought a girl with him to practice and introduced her as his new girlfriend. Despite the revelation, you somehow managed to make it through practice and hold yourself together through your embarrassment. It surprised you that you’d managed not to break down until you’d made it back to your room and locked the door with shaking hands.

You were such a _fool_ , such a _fucking idiot_. Being nice to you didn’t mean he liked you. He was just the lone decent human being in the world. You couldn’t face him again, not after getting cocky enough to think that he’d been interested in you for anything more than your dancing and some light conversation.

No, no, you wouldn’t leave your room ever again. It was safe there, away from everyone else. You could rot in peace.

You pushed yourself up from the ground and crawled into bed, head throbbing and a nasty pressure behind your eyes and nose from crying so much. You cocooned yourself under the covers, pulling the blankets tight against you to simulate a hug. You could rot right there for all your stupidity.


End file.
